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You see that big toothpick sticking out of the lawn in the photo. It's the national monument and, on any given day, at it's base, you will find all the map-carrying, visor-wearing, fanny pack-sporting tourists you could dream of. (or have nightmares about for that matter)
I was running yesterday morning underneath a cloudy sky, when not one but TWO groups of tourists stopped me to ask for directions to various monuments. The first was a family from somewhere in what I guessed to be eastern europe, based on there accent. They asked me how to get to the White House. "Oh, you just keep walking on this path toward that road, cross the street and you'll see it," I said ever-so-smoothly. Then, as I bounced at a stop sign waiting for the walk sign to switch, a couple of 40-something women gently said, "Excuse me, which way to the Smithsonian." I put on my 'local-District-citizen' face and cooly responded, "follow this side walk and you'll see the Castle on your right, the Smithsonian will be across the way on your left."
So, I gave myself 10 points for the day, 5 for each set of directions I so kindly offered up as if I were a local. As lonely as I may feel sometimes, knowing that I've been mistaken for a local, helps me feel a little bit more at home.
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